This Isn’t Cosplay!

Hear, children of the future, and hearken to the words of the Elder, that you may know who once shattered the darkness.

In those days, when the lands were crushed beneath the shadows of the Demon King as he spread his wings across heaven and earth, hope arose in the form of two men.

Men, whose names were etched in equal parts gold and blood into the annals of history.

Marcus, keeper of hidden knowledge. Crimson Magus. Tamer of the Star Beast.

And Gus, the Shadow Blade. Known also as the Unyielding, the Foam-Crowned, and the one who brought down the Demon King’s most fearsome General!

They, and they alone, stood against the endless horde, broke through the ranks of darkness, split the realm of despair with sword and sorcery, and cast down the Demon King himself, there, where his black crown shattered like glass!

Songs shall sing of their deeds when the stars themselves have long gone out.

Children’s children shall speak of their courage, when even the trees of the primeval forests have turned to dust.

For it was they who…

“Woah, woah, hold up! Dude, shut up for a sec!”

Another voice, hoarse and irritated, crashed into the solemn speech like a beer bottle shattering on stone.

“Exactly! Don’t start the story backwards, old man, you’re killing the suspense! And where are the girls!?” Gus yelled.

“Yeah, where are the girls!?” Marcus chimed in, nodding furiously. “And what about Carrie? Without her, none of this would’ve even happened! Sorry, but that’s non-negotiable!”

A sharp, indignant ahem cut through their banter like an arrow.

“W–What nonsense are you spouting?!” snapped a bright, younger voice. “I don’t care if I’m in your dumb story or not! Honestly! If anything, I’d rather no one ever knew how we...” She bit her lip, cutting herself off. “…And how many times do I have to say it? My name is Caeriel! NOT Carrie!”

The Elder faltered, his dignified voice losing its weight.

Uh… well… it is not customary to clutter heroic epics… with unnecessary details…

“Unnecessary? Unnecessary!?” Marcus cried. “Can you believe this, Gus?”

Gus only shook his head theatrically, as if the insult was almost too much to endure.

“We’d better tell it ourselves. From the very beginning.”

Marcus cleared his throat dramatically:

“So there I was, surrounded by these ugly little gremlin-things with sharp teeth, long ears, and crazy haircuts like Joe Dante himself was directing…”

---

Marcus stood alone, encircled by half a dozen slobbering creatures.

They cackled like hyenas, scraped their claws against the dirt, and inched closer.

His mouth hung open. His throat was dry.

Monsters.

Not in a video game. Not in some B-movie. Real monsters. Just a few steps away.

He smelled their rot, saw drool dangling from crooked fangs, heard their screeching laughter slice the forest air like a rusty knife.

For a few heartbeats, he just stood frozen, unable to blink, then he forced down a swallow.

“Dude… what the hell is this? These are monsters! Real monsters!”

They closed in, small but threatening.

What do I do, what do I do…

„Think, Marc, think!” he muttered, as if he were Invincible and Omni-Man rolled into one.

Sweat trickled down his forehead.

“Remember your time in the army…”

His vision flickered, the forest melted away, colors bleeding into a different scene:

A cramped room, drunken soldiers roaring, pounding on helmets, someone vomiting into a trashcan. 

In the middle: Marcus, holding a beer funnel, while a chorus roared around him:

“CHUG! CHUG! CHUG! CHUG!”

Then, in an instant, darkness, and just like that, the forest snapped back into focus.

Marcus blinked twice.

The creatures still stared, drool dripping from their fangs.

“…Ah, screw this.”

He spun on his heel and bolted.

“AAAAAAAAAAHHHH!”

Branches whipped his face, thorns tore at his cloak, roots clawed his boots, and the monsters shrieked behind him.

His lungs burned, every muscle screamed. Until finally, he collapsed, hands on knees, hat slipping from his head.

He wiped the sweat from his brow, when he heard something among the trees: Water, softly trickling.

Confused, he stumbled further until the forest opened into a clearing where sunlight broke through the canopy and glittered across a clear lake.

And there, lying in the grass at the water’s edge, was a familiar figure.

“Gus!” Marcus gasped, voice half relief, half despair. “Dude, there you are! I have no idea what’s going on, but we’ve gotta...”

“Shhh!” Gus hissed, not looking back.

He lay flat on his stomach, head low in the bushes, eyes locked forward.

“Get down, man, or she’ll hear us!”

Marcus dropped beside him, still panting, adrenaline pounding in his veins.

“You don’t get it! I woke up and there were mon… mon… monster...”

The words died as his gaze followed Gus’s.

His eyes went wide and his jaw dropped.

“…boobies.”

On the shimmering surface of the water rose a figure: slim, long-legged, golden hair clinging in wet strands down her back.

Sunlight played across droplets running down her skin, beading over smooth curves, her ample breasts rising and falling with the rhythm of the water.

“…Damn,” Marcus breathed, while Gus just grinned and nodded.

But it wasn’t just her body. Her violet eyes caught him, bright as amethyst, and for one stunned heartbeat, he was gone.

“…That’s not cosplay. She’s real…” he whispered.

His heart thudded. He crawled forward, inching closer, eyes locked on her as if bewitched.

“Just a little closer…”

“Don’t push it. We’ve already got the best seats in the house,” Gus muttered, though he crawled after him anyway.

Then, the earth trembled and both froze.

“Not. Good,” Gus muttered.

The ground collapsed and with a crash, the two of them tumbled into the shallows in a spray of mud and water.

The elf in the lake spun in shock.

Her violet eyes blazed, golden hair clinging to her skin, and for a long, stretched second, she only stared.

At two filthy men floundering in the water like stranded carp.

Then she looked down at herself, at droplets sliding over her bare skin.

Confusion vanished, replaced by furious red shame.

“KYYYYAAAAAAH!”

She screamed, crossed her arms over her chest, and sank halfway into the lake.

“Uh, sorry, we’re leaving!” Gus yelped, grabbing Marcus by the shoulder, who still stared, dazed lovestruck, as Gus dragged him back toward shore.

TWANG!

An arrow thudded into the dirt, inches from Gus’s boots.

“Not another step, scum!”

From the shadows stepped an elf: tall, rigid posture, bow drawn tight with golden hair bound into a braid and sapphire eyes cold as steel.

She wasn’t alone; shadows moved behind her, rangers with bows raised, waiting for her signal.

The way they fell into formation around her left no doubt, she was the commander.

With a sharp gesture, two broke ranks, rushing forward to wrench Marcus and Gus’s arms behind their backs.

“Argh, careful, that hurts!”

“Silence.” The commander stepped closer, bow still drawn. “One more word, and I’ll shoot the tongue from your mouth.”

Both swallowed hard.

Meanwhile, the naked elf crouched half-hidden in the water, face scarlet, arms wrapped tightly around herself.

The commander waded into the shallows. She dropped to one knee, head bowed. Her voice trembled with reverence:

“Your Highness. Forgive me. I should have been more vigilant.”

As if on command, the rangers followed, bows lowered. Some knelt, others placed hands to hearts.

Marcus’s eyes widened. “…Highness?”

Two rangers leapt into the water, tossed the princess a cloth, and hurried to cover her. With practiced speed, they guided her back to shore and into the shelter of the forest.

Marcus stared after her, as if something had been ripped from him with every step.

Then the commander faced the captives, chin high, her eyes like ice.

“Humans… pah.” Every syllable dripped with disdain. “What are you even doing here? I thought the few of your kind had long since crossed the sea.”

Gus tried: “We...”

“Enough!” She cut him off like a whip crack. “Bind and gag them. We’ll take them in for questioning.”

“At once, Lady Caeriel,” one ranger barked.

Rough ropes tightened around their wrists, dragging their arms behind their backs, while a wad of cloth was shoved between their teeth.

“Mmmph! Mmmmmmph!”

“Move,” Caeriel ordered.

They stumbled forward, ropes biting into their wrists.

Now, they were prisoners.

Gus shot Marcus a look, muffled cloth stuffed between his teeth, and thought bitterly:

Man… these people take their cosplay way too seriously.

---

And just like that, the tale was cut short, because Gus’s voice barged in, smug and dramatic:

“And that, kids, is how I met your mother!”

“IT’S WAY TOO EARLY FOR THAT, IDIOT!” Caeriel snapped, cheeks blazing.

The Elder let out a long, suffering sigh. “…Can you two PLEASE stop hijacking my story!?”